


Locked Room Mystery

by richmahogany



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Crack, Friendship, Gen, Hobbies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 07:41:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16035989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/richmahogany/pseuds/richmahogany
Summary: There is one room at the library which Harold keeps locked and forbids John to enter. What could he possibly hide in there?





	Locked Room Mystery

Trust was something which, by his own admission, Finch found difficult to come by. Reese could understand that, not being the trusting sort himself, but he also thought that if he was to work for Finch, his employer should show a bit more trust in him than he did. When Finch hired Reese, he took him to the library at the start. Not because he really wanted to, Reese could feel Finch’s inner resistance to his presence, but because he figured that a new partner should know as much of the set-up as necessary. Subsequently, though, Finch kept Reese out of the library as much as possible. As time went on, and Harold’s trust grew by tiny increments, he let finally let John see more of the library and what was beyond the computer desk and tea-making facilities.

There was nothing that one wouldn’t have expected in an abandoned library. There were some empty offices, public restrooms, a staff restroom, a staff breakroom, a couple of small rooms which appeared to have been used for sorting books, and one were basic book repairs had been carried out. And of course there were shelves upon shelves of books. John couldn’t really understand why Harold was so secretive about it all, unless it was just his reluctance to let anyone into his space. And the library was very much Harold’s space, even though there was nothing personal anywhere. Technically, he supposed, it was Finch’s space, since he owned it, but it was more than that. For John, Harold had been associated from the start with books, and so it seemed to him that Finch’s spirit somehow pervaded the library.

Perhaps, then, he shouldn’t have been surprised that Finch wasn’t prepared to give up all of his secrets yet. For there was one room on the second floor which was always locked. When he asked Finch about it, the reply was:  
“The library is at your disposal, Mr Reese, but please do not go into that room. It’s private.”

That of course piqued Reese’s curiosity even more. But he could see that Finch was serious about keeping that room private. He had become so adept at reading Finch by now that he knew when he was serious or half-joking. Sometimes Finch would keep information secret on the tacit understanding that John would root it out anyway. It was like a little game they played. But he could tell that in this instance Harold was not playing games. It was very important to him to keep that room private, and John had no intention of violating that privacy. It would have been easy enough to break in – it didn’t looked like the door was secured in any special way – but he didn’t want to break what trust had been built between them. They had been partners for long enough now to be able to rely on each other, and he could see that breaking into that room would hurt Finch in more ways than one. It would have been like asking Finch probing questions when he was under the influence of drugs and not in control of what he said. It would spoil their relationship which John had come to value too much. In a twisted way, that was how Finch showed his trust – he trusted John not to break into the room behind his back. Well, nothing was ever straightforward with Finch.

So he just stood in front of the door sometimes, wondering what could possibly be behind it. Something that Finch clearly didn’t want him to know about. Something embarrassing perhaps – his collection of limited edition Barbies? A hot tub where he indulged himself after hours? An S&M jungle gym? Or maybe this was where the mysterious Machine was actually located?  
Well, clearly he wasn’t going to find out. John didn’t think about the lcoked room often, but in his idle moments it was fun to speculate what it could possibly contain.

One summer evening John had gotten half way to his apartment when he realised that he had left his cell behind at the library. It would have been nice to spend a whole night undisturbed, but it was part of his job that Harold should be able to reach him at all times, so he had no choice but to go back for it.

John realised as soon as he got there that Harold was still inside, even though his usual workspace was in darkness. But the light was on above the stairs. Harold had gone up – could he have gone into his secret room? Maybe this was John’s chance to finally find out what the mystery was all about. He crept up the stair as quietly as he could. Noiselessly he approached the room and stood outside. The door was ajar, so Harold was clearly inside. But what was he doing?

Suddenly a strange noise emanated from the room, almost making him jump. It wasn’t a very loud noise, though – a kind of hissing, rattling noise with a hum to it…a sewing machine? John had to suppress a giggle at the thought of Harold sitting there in the evenings and making all those finely tailored suits himself. But no, a sewing machine would have been louder. This was more like a hum than a rattle. Now a second hiss joined the first one, then a third. Then they all stopped abruptly. What could possibly make that kind of noise?

John held his breath, but then he heard Harold’s voice:

“Why don’t you come in, Mr Reese?”

How had he known that John was there? With his heart pounding, John pushed the door open – and found a whole world spread out in front of him.  
There were snow-capped mountains, with winding passes, tunnels and a cable car between two peaks. There was flat farmland with barns and isolated houses and grazing animals. There was a bustling town with a train station where about 10 tracks converged, streets with cars and people, a church. Elsewhere was a smaller town, something straight out of a western film. There was a river with freighters on it, docks where cranes moved containers from ships onto trains. And finally there was the sea shore, with a white beach and palm trees and a little pleasure train running on the promenade. It was the largest, most detailed and most beautiful model railroad John had ever seen.

As he stared, Harold pressed a button somewhere, and with that humming, hissing noise he had heard before, one of the trains started to move along the track and disappeared into a tunnel. Harold pressed more buttons, and more trains moved over the set, speeding up or slowing down, and sometimes stopping to let another train pass.  
Then Harold stopped them all again and looked up at John with a shy smile.

“You like it?”

John had to laugh out loud, with pleasure, surprise and amusement all at once.

“Yes! It’s magnificent! Did you build all this yourself?”

“Most of it,” Harold answered.

“Some of the components I’ve bought ready-made, but most of it I did make myself. It’s taken me many years.”

“So how do you keep the trains from running into each other?”

Harold smiled again.

“It’s all in the programming. That’s the part I like most, actually, wiring up the set and programming the trains to run smoothly. I got into this at college, and it stayed with me. There’s something very satisfying about building your own world.”

Yes, thought John, and he’s done it again with the Machine. He’s built a world the way he thinks it should run, according to his principles. But he had to admit that a world run according to Harold’s principles would probably be a very good one.

“But why did you keep all this secret? Why wasn’t I allowed to see it before?”

Harold looked a bit embarrassed.

“I think I just felt that it was very personal to me. Something very important to me that I wanted to keep to myself. And I didn’t know what you would think. I suppose I was afraid that you would laugh at me, or be contemptuous because I’m playing with toys, or…well, model railroads aren’t exactly cool, are they?”

“No. But when have you ever been cool, Harold?”

“True.”

“So why now? Why did you let me in?”

“I know you well enough now to be able to guess your reaction. And I knew that your reaction wouldn’t be one that would spoil it for me. I think you -“ here Harold blushed slightly – “I think you are my friend. And I trust you. And I felt I was ready to share this with you. I wasn’t wrong, was I?”

John didn’t know what to say. He, too, had felt that his relationship with Harold had moved closer to friendship over time. He certainly knew that he cared for Harold a lot more than you would for just your employer. But he had no idea how Harold felt towards him, and yet here he was, opening up like never before, actually saying out loud that he trusted John. He was so moved by that, he found it difficult to find the words.

“Thank you, Harold,” he said eventually, “you weren’t wrong. Thank you for trusting me with this. It means a lot to me.”

There was a moment of silence in which they couldn’t really look at each other and so stared at the train set instead.

After a minute John cleared his throat.

“So – can I have a go?”

He had never seen Harold’s face brighten so much.

“Of course! Here, let me show you…”

And Harold launched into descriptions, explanations and instructions which left John dizzy with confusion, but it was worth it just to see Harold so happy. And he did let John press the buttons and make the trains go, which gave John a sense of satisfaction he hadn’t anticipated.

It was the most enjoyable evening either of them had had in a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Because, of course, in my headcanon Harold was a member of the Tech Model Railroad Club at MIT.


End file.
